Still grumbling, he walked with Imsiba and Hori up the quay. Bak remained behind, unwilling to leave until his men finished inspecting Ramose’s ship and it set sail for the north.
He sat on a mooring post, tapping his ankle with his baton, letting his thoughts run free. The sun, a pale yellow orb in a blue-white sky, seemed for a moment to cling to the edge of the high fortress wall, then dropped behind it. A sentry, reduced to a silhouette against the light, paced the battlements. A half dozen fishermen stood among as many skiffs pulled up on the revetment near the end of the quay, their voices raised in argument, speaking in a local dialect Bak could not understand.
He listened to the murmurs of the ship’s crew farther out on the quay, inhaled the fishy, musty odor of the water flowing past, savored the breeze caressing his shoulders. He thought of the ship that had already sailed, wondered where it would tie up for the night and what safe harbor Ramose would find. And he thought of Mahu’s cargo vessel, soon to arrive from Kor. Nebwa’s suspicions seemed farfetched, based on instinct rather than fact. At times that instinct was infallible, but now? Mahu’s reputation was exemplary, his honesty unquestioned.
Bak, yawning broadly, stepped out of the dark passage through the towered gate and walked south along the upper terrace. One large vessel, a broad-beamed cargo ship with the river god Hapi painted on its prow, was moored alongside the southern quay. The crew hustled about the deck, securing the lowered mast and yards for the long voyage downstream to Kemet. The ship was Mahu’s, riding low in the water, reeking of the farmyard. When it had sailed into Buhen at dusk, too late to inspect, the cattle and goats it carried on deck had been led away to the animal paddocks.
The harbor guards had assured Bak that the remainder of the cargo had lain untouched through the night.
The heavy ship wallowed in the swells raised by a stiff breeze. Across a strip of water and tied to the central quay, a line of smaller boats-fishing skiffs, papyrus rafts, and vessels used to ferry people, animals, and produce across the river-bobbed up and down, tugging at their mooring ropes.
Bak eyed the quay, the bustle on board Mahu’s ship, the men working in and around the lesser craft. He smelled the faint fishy odor of the river, smoke from many small hearths and braziers, and the sweet, clinging odor of manure. Long red banners whipped in the breeze from atop four tall flagstaffs clamped to the facade of the pylon. The rustling of heavy linen vied with the clamor inside the fortress: the barking of dogs, the braying of donkeys, the shouts of sergeants goading the garrison troops to their day’s activities.
At that moment, all seemed right with the world. Almost too right. If I were a superstitious man, Bak thought with a smile, I’d start looking over my shoulder, fearing trouble close behind.
Imsiba strode through the gate, followed by a scraggly line of Medjays and soldiers and the elderly scribe from the records office. He paused, eyeing two men standing midway along the quay. “Our morning, it seems, has been blessed beyond words.”
The big Medjay, Bak knew, was referring to the younger of the pair, Userhet, overseer of warehouses, impeccably clad in a calf-length kilt, a broad bead collar, and matching bracelets. From a distance, the tall, broad- shouldered bureaucrat looked more like a soldier than a scribe. His hair was dark and curly, his nose aquiline, his skin oiled gold. Imsiba had taken a dislike to him the day he set foot in Buhen.
Userhet was charming-too charming, Imsiba had grumbled-much admired by garrison wives and daughters.
Mahu, the second man, was of medium height and build, with skin dark and weathered from too many years standing unprotected on the deck of a ship. He wore a simple knee-length white kilt, bronze bracelets and armlets, and a pectoral with a design too finely worked to see from so far away.
“Userhet and Mahu are neighbors,” Bak said. “They often play the game of senet together.”
Imsiba gave the pair a sour look. “I’ve always thought Mahu too upright a man to use friends in lofty places to gain an advantage.”
“You know how fond of himself Userhet is! He’d not be here if he thought a shadow would fall anywhere near him, darkening his precious reputation.”
“Mahu’s reputation is equally spotless, my friend, but if Userhet pleads his case, insisting he sail out of Buhen without an inspection, I’d say ‘tarnished’ could better be used to describe them both.”
“I see you’ve a way with words, Sergeant.” A tall, slender man of thirty or so years emerged from the gloom of the passageway behind them, his eyes twinkling with good humor. Though his face was bony and pocked, ravaged by some childhood disease, he was a man of elegant movements and infinite grace, wearing a broad collar, bracelets, and armlets. Each piece of jewelry was a treat to the eye, with every bead made of gold, carnelian, turquoise, or lapis lazuli-not the bronze and faience affairs worn by most everyone else in Buhen.
“Hapuseneb!” Bak was never quite sure how he should treat this man, the most successful trader south of the land of Kemet. So he had long ago opted for equality. “I didn’t expect to see you in Buhen!” He glanced toward the quay, though he knew none of the merchant’s ships were moored there. “How did you get here?”
“You see that magnificent vessel with the patched yellow sail?” Hapuseneb pointed to a small, very ordinary fishing boat riding the swells near the water’s edge. “I borrowed it last night and sailed in from Kor, where my own ship lan-guishes-thanks to your friend Nebwa.”
“Don’t tell me he caught you smuggling contraband!” Bak laughed.
The merchant gave a cynical snort. “One of my caravan masters, a man of no sense whatsoever, tried to bring three 34 / Lauren Haney young women across the frontier without passes. Nebwa impounded the lot: women, donkeys, and trade goods. He can keep the women through eternity, for all I care, but I want my donkeys returned, and the merchandise they carry.
As I couldn’t persuade him to release them, I came to Buhen, hoping to convince Thuty so we can soon load my ship and sail north to Kemet.” He shook his head in mock resignation.
“He agreed, but only if I sail into Buhen and submit to a second search. The viceroy’s command, it seems, is of greater influence than my poor cries for understanding.”
Smiling at his own joke, Hapuseneb knelt at the water’s edge, drew the borrowed skiff in close, and stepped aboard.
Bak and Imsiba turned away and led their inspection crew on down the quay.
“Hapuseneb seems a good man,” Imsiba said. “I wish more were like him. Quicker to accept this task we must do and slower to complain.”
Bak slowed his pace as they approached the gangplank and lowered his voice so no one else would hear. “If we find no ivory through the week, and if Nebwa finds none at Kor, we’ll speak to Commandant Thuty. By then we’ll have inconvenienced and angered a sufficient number of men to convince the viceroy we’ve done our duty. With luck, he’ll consign these blanket inspections to the netherworld.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you, Lieutenant.” Userhet glanced at Imsiba and the men standing by the gangplank, awaiting Bak’s signal to board. “I’m sure you’d much rather be elsewhere.”
“Yes, sir,” Bak said, using formality to distance himself from potential argument.
“I understand Commandant Thuty received a message from the viceroy, ordering a widespread search for contraband.” Userhet paused, giving Bak a chance to comment, perhaps to confirm or deny, maybe even go so far as to fill in details.
“The commandant seldom confides in me, sir.”
“How many ships have you inspected so far? Two? Three? And you must’ve examined half the fishing boats along this part of the river and most of the ferries. Yet you’ve brought nothing to the treasury, nor have you turned in anything of lesser value to the main storage magazine.”
“No, sir.”
Close to the end of the previous day Nebwa’s sergeant had confiscated a cage of half-grown monkeys suffering from starvation and thirst. Maybe the overseer had not yet heard about the animals-or maybe he did not consider them of value.
Userhet frowned, tried again. “To search every vessel and come up empty-handed seems a waste of time. Yours and that of everyone else.”
Mahu laid a hand on his shoulder. “We live on the frontier, my young friend. We’re bound to be inconvenienced once in a while. Especially men like me, who come and go time and time again, more often than not carrying valuable and rare cargo.”
“Your reputation is above reproach,” Userhet insisted. “You shouldn’t be subjected to such an indignity. If I had the authority, I’d send you on your way this instant.”
